kyuball
Fandoms
- KATSEYE (Band) (20)
Recent works
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Summary
There’s a girl on the screen, and when she glances at the stream’s description, she finds her name — Megan, Yoonchae silently mouths, tasting the syllables. It feels good in her mouth; “Megan,” she says out loud this time, and finds that it’s stretchy, and vibrant, and awfully reminiscent of some sugary-sweet candy, like a taffy.
Or: Yoonchae yearns.
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Summary
She just needs some time to herself — to, like, clear her head and be born anew. Whatever, y’know? Everything is fine and dandy; more importantly, Manon’s fine and dandy, and the fine-and-dandy-Manon will text Sophia back later, when she’s feeling more like… herself.
Except.
She doesn’t text back.
Or: we destroy ourselves yet beg to be rebuilt by others anyway.
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Summary
“Look,” Sophia says, pointing up at the sky. “You can’t even see the stars because of the snow.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense. It’s pretty.” Sophia turns her head to look at Manon, and there’s snow in her hair and on her eyelashes; Manon wants to lick it off — she’s, like, drunk though, and it’s the alcohol speaking, and if she says it enough times, she can convince herself it’s true, right? “You’re pretty.”
Manon's breath catches. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m drunk and you’re pretty. Both things can be true,” she declares, before sitting up and brushing snow off herself. “Okay, now we should actually go home before we freeze to death for real.”
Or: Love blooms, in the snow, and it is just right.
Or (unrelated): 35 people will break up today because a girl will post Sophia & then their partner is going to say, “Hey, how can you post Sophia Laforteza and not me?” Well, babe...
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Summary
“Manon, do you ever feel like you’ve gone through something before?”
“Like déjà vu?”
Or: Sophia's always been a dreamer.
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Summary
They haven’t even done much, but it’s still getting harder and harder to speak coherently, because Sophia’s mouth has always been good at everything; at singing, at talking, yapper-oholic, at pleasuring Manon — ugh, ugh, fuck. “Sophia,” she repeats; then, breathlessly, “Sophia, it’s —” her hands attempt to move, but it’s a hopeless effort to grip something and stabilize herself, when she finds them locked in place by that insufferable little tie.
Sophia’s nothing short of pleased, letting out her own soft noise. She’s finally grown tired of waiting, it seems, and starts moving downward, kisses upon kisses to her chest, and then her thighs, before reaching the spot Manon desperately wants her.
Manon thinks she loves her.
Or: the trials and tribulations of being in a girl group.